


We will find what’s wrong with him, and we will fix it

by AnnaFay



Series: I would like to see the baby [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFay/pseuds/AnnaFay
Summary: “What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping out to onto the porch and pulling the door closed behind her so that they wouldn’t wake Winta too.“It’s the kid.”“Is he sick?”“I don’t know. Maybe,” he whispered. “I wanted to ask if you could have a look at him,” he added, sounding almost embarrassed about his request.
Series: I would like to see the baby [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586224
Comments: 3
Kudos: 79





	We will find what’s wrong with him, and we will fix it

Although the knocking on the door seemed persistent enough, it was so soft, Omera didn’t even recognize it to be the noise waking her from her sleep. So soft that she even stayed lying on her back, listening to it intently before finally deciding that it was indeed _someone_ at the door, and not _something_ , like a branch of tree or a net drying in the wind that was making the noise.

“Yes?” She looked up at the Mandalorian as she opened the door, adjusting the blanket around her shoulder.

“Sorry for waking you up.” He shifted from one foot to the other.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping out to onto the porch and pulling the door closed behind her so that they wouldn’t wake Winta too.

“It’s the kid.”

“Is he sick?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he whispered. “I wanted to ask if you could have a look at him,” he added, sounding almost embarrassed about his request.

“Of course.” She nodded with a reassuring smile. For a moment she wondered if she should bring something along, or go and fetch the medical box from the common house, but she soon decided it would be best to have a look at the child first, so she just reopened the door wide enough to be able to grab her boots. 

“Let’s go,” she said as she stepped into them, not bothering much about their laces.

“Thank you.” He stood to the side to let her lead the way.

“So, what’s wrong with him?” she asked, slowing down slightly, because even though they weren’t going too far, she didn’t like walking in front of others.

“I don’t know.” He took the hint and stepped in line with her. “There’s this strange noise I’ve never heard him make before.”

“What noise?”

“ _That_ noise.” He halted just before entering the barn.

He was right, it was a strange noise indeed. It sounded both very much like a human child fussing and nothing like that at all.

“Is this how he usually cries?” she asked.

“It could be…”

He had always been willing to share very little about the child and how they had ended up travelling together, but in moments like these she also suspected he knew very little about him too. “All right, let’s see, what’s wrong.” She gave him a nod and stepped into the barn.

The child didn’t notice them right away, but when he did, he fell silent for a moment as he turned to look at them, before he started crying again.

“Hello there,” said Omera, walking up to the crib.

The only answer she got was the child sticking out one of his chubby feet from under his robe and wiggling it slightly.

“May I?” she asked the Mandalorian before reaching for the child.

“Sure.”

“All right, little one, let’s see what’s all this crying is about.” She reached into the crib and lifted the child from it, carrying him over to a nearby box and placing him on her knees as she sat down. “Can you bring that lamp closer?” she added, looking up at the Mandalorian.

He took it off the hook right away and followed them without a word.

“So.” She straightened up a little. “When did he start crying?”

“After dinner.”

“He doesn’t feel too hot,” she said, touching the child’s face, then his neck with the back of her fingers. She didn’t have him in her arms often, but she couldn’t remember touching him and feeling him to be much hotter or colder than a human child should. “I think this is his normal body temperature.”

“Yes,” he replied right away, sounding almost relieved to finally be able to give a straight answer to a question about his boy.

“Okay. Then what did he eat today?”

“What does he _usually_ eat?” he said with but a hint of sarcasm.

“Fair enough.” She nodded. “And how much?” she asked, placing her palm on the belly of the child and pressing down on it gently. It didn’t seem to bother him, if anything, he seemed to enjoy the touch, holding on to her wrist right away. And crying on.

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “Not significantly more or less than usual.”

“His stool?”

“Looks like it normally does.”

“How did he sleep last night?” She started bouncing him on her knee almost instinctively, and for a moment he stopped crying again, but when the moment was gone, he started again, once more.

“Like the way he normally does. He did everything the way he normally does. _I_ did everything the way _I_ normally do. _Everything_.”

He stopped speaking so abruptly she couldn’t help biting down on her lower lip. Winta had always been a calm, happy child, but she knew parents who weren’t so lucky, so she was familiar with the panic in his voice too.

“He’ll be fine,” she said, standing up from the box and taking a step towards him. “We will find what’s wrong with him, and we will fix it.”

Even though he said nothing, she could feel his eyes searching her face, so she adjusted the child in her arm slightly and looked back at him.

“Or if you want, we can take him to the town tomorrow and have him checked by a medic there,” she offered.

“No.” He shook his head. “If he needs a medic, we need to get one to come here.”

“Sure.” She nodded, because whatever his reasons were for not wanting to go to the town, neither the time, nor the place was right to discuss them. “We’ll get one to come here.”

“Why does he need a medic?”

She was nowhere near dropping the child, but could perfectly understand why the Mandalorian lashed out and steadied her hand over him.

“Winta!” she hissed, her heart still pounding against her ribs. “You shouldn’t be out here.” She handed the child back to the Mandalorian and rushed to her daughter’s side. “And I’ve told you before, no more sneaking up on our guests.” She put a hand on her shoulder to shoo her out of the barn. “Now please, go back to bed.”

“Is he sick?” asked Winta, refusing to move.

Omera looked back at the child clinging to the Mandalorian’s arm with all six claws, crying harder than ever. “Yes, I’m afraid, he is.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, he’s been crying a lot. But if you don’t let us--”

“Crying?” Winta snapped her head towards her friend. “He’s not crying. He’s singing!”

“WHAT?” Omera and the Mandalorian cried out in almost perfect unison.

“He’s singing!” she repeated, grabbing Omera’s hand and pulling her closer to the other two. “We taught him the Song of the Salmon today, and he’s singing it. Well… Not the words, but… Can’t you guys hear it?”

Omera couldn’t tell if her face was turning white or red, but she could feel that something was definitely going on with it, and the longer she listened to the child, the more notes she could catch from the song. Not that he was especially good at it…

“I think he’s doing it because I told him he needed to keep on practicing for as long as he could before bed so that he wouldn’t forget it by the morning,” Winta explained

“I’m sorry,” she Omera, looking up at the Mandalorian, then bending to place a kiss on the top of Winta’s head, because it was rude to laugh when he obviously needed a few more minutes before he would be able to find the situation funny, but impossible not to. “So sorry,” she added.

“Sorry for what?” asked Winta.

“Nothing.” Omera reached for her hand. “Let’s go. You should be in bed, and I should…” she looked back at the Mandalorian. Now that she knew what was going on, it was painfully obvious that the child was having great fun, singing to himself and for everyone who would listen. “I should warm up some milk for him. Maybe it will silence him for long enough to get drowsy.”

“Maybe.” Nodded the Mandalorian, and Omera could tell that was all he was capable of saying at the moment. He was still holding the child to his chest, but with the weight of his worries off his shoulder, there was something awkward in his stance.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Omera with a smile, as she started ushering Winta out of the barn, hoping the night’s events wouldn’t scar him for life.


End file.
